


The Final Goodbye

by MsDaHedgehog



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Healing, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 08:51:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21134009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsDaHedgehog/pseuds/MsDaHedgehog
Summary: Wrote this for a friend, she's given me the go ahead to publish.





	The Final Goodbye

The sodden ground shifted under his paws, leaving deep indents as he limped down the steep mud path leading to the small stone cottage at the bottom of the creek. The dawns harsh wind bit through his thick fur, the hours old wounds on his hide stinging as though they were fresh. Each step left him growling lowly, pain radiating through every part of him, his joints protesting every move.

The last nights unplanned ambush against the Death Eaters had been a bloodbath – brutal - with both sides simultaneously gaining the upper hand but losing heavily. Just when it seemed as though they were finally winning the night, Voldemort himself had shown up in a wisp of smoke, staying long enough to ensure the orders numbers were depleted even further before disappearing once more with a hiss the second he realised his prize was not present.

His thin legs shook with each step he took, threatening to give out at any given moment but his sheer determination to get to her was the only thing that kept him going. The moment the battle had seized, once the dead from both sides had been counted and revelations from the survivors had been made, he’d changed form and fled from the site. He’d had no time to rest or recoup, no time to have his wounds seen to nor time heal them himself. He knew the others would take care of things; his only priority was getting to the woman he… Apparating would have been quicker, much quicker, but Sirius knew he would not be able to clear his mind enough to focus on the three D’s. Splinching himself now would be catastrophic. The battle had been too close to their home for comfort, though still hours away on foot. There was only a few feet left, seconds of travel but he was so tired. He had to make it, _needed_ to make it.

The gentle hum of his magic hung around the area as he passed through his wards. A little puff of air escaped through his teeth in relief. He could sense her now, both through his heightened senses of his changed form and from the protection of the wards. She was safe and Sirius breathed another sigh of relief, the puff of steam from his nose visible in the dull light. He dragged his paws the final few steps, choosing not to change back into his human form until the last second, knowing it would exhort what little energy he had left. He stood briefly at the door, swaying dangerously from side to side. The pain from his wounds were more prominent now, the magic from changing draining his body. He pounded a fist once, twice, three times against the door before collapsing to his knees, propped against the darkened wood. His eyes slipped closed with a final thought of the woman inside.

* * *

Rain lashed against the windows as she jolted on the bed. In sleep, her lip clamped between teeth, one hand cupping her breast, the other pressing against the pulsing bud between her legs. Memories of his touch, of his fingers trailing her skin, rough kisses leaving red rashes against her neck brought her to the edge. Legs widening of their own accord gave her more access as she worked her fingers against herself, slipping one, then two inside her opening, thrusting faster and faster until she was crying out in ecstasy. Her juices coated her fingers, her palm and the sheets beneath her. Her come down was slow, leisured, the pad of her thumb coaxing her through her orgasm. It was the hardest she’d gone without him by her side and as she lay there panting she wished it had his been fingers instead of hers. She woke to a pool of warmth between her legs, leaving slick trails against her skin and her nipples rock hard and sensitive to the touch. She whimpered when brushing against them. She slid up against the headboard, chest still heaving. Her skin was clammy, and she desperately needed a shower – if only to cool down.

Yet she didn’t move, instead she stayed and closed her eyes, remembering. She hadn’t seen him in weeks, and their last time together had been rough, heated, _exciting_. He’d told her he’d be gone for a while, and that it may be the last time they saw each other. He said that every time, as though he was preparing her for the possibility of him not returning. She knew the risks, understood them more than she knew he believed. She knew the chances of him coming back were decreasing every time he left. The Order numbers were steadily declining with each ambush, and with Potter currently indisposed with the Weasley girl, the Order was mostly without a fully focused leader.

She shivered with another memory of his fingers on her skin, her hand slipping down back between her legs. Memories of being shoved against the wall, striped of her clothing, touches leaving her trembling and wanting _so much more._ Memories of being commanded on the bed, spread out before him as he run his tongue along the inside of her thighs before moving up painstakingly slowly. The memory of one hand gripping the sheets and the other in his hair, keeping him firm against her clit as she rode out her orgasm against his face. She gave a sharp intake of breath as the tips of her fingers glided over her sweet spot. It only took a matter of seconds for her fingers to be slick once more with her juices, the soft pad of her thumb rubbing against her clit. She slid back down on the bed, head cushioned against the pillow and added her other hand to the mix. She moaned as her pace quickened, Sirius’ name rolling off her tongue as she made quick work of bringing herself to the edge once more. She panted as she bucked her hips against her hand, creating more friction and feeling the burning fire in the pit of her stomach. She was close, so so close to coming, Sirius’ name on the tip of her tongue once more when three loud bangs on the front door denied her.

She lay frozen, fingers still inside her and her teeth gritted together to keep from crying out in frustration. Her chest heaved as she tried slowing her breathing enough to hear any sounds coming from outside. There was nothing but the rain and the wind at the window. She groaned as she removed her fingers, muttering about interruptions as she rolled out of bed. Slipping on a discarded shirt of his from the floor, she tiptoed down the hall towards the door. As pissed as she was at being stopped before coming, she knew that it wasn’t possible for someone to be knocking at the door – unless it was him. She knew his magic kept her protected. Knew that it wasn’t possible for someone to get passed it, not unless… She shook her head, not allowing herself to think the worst. Grabbing the bar that lived by the door, she held it in her right hand, reaching for the lock to the door with her left. She pulled it open, Sirius rolling forward at her feet.

She didn’t scream, nor cry out in shock. She simply stared. For a moment she watched the rising of his chest, hearing his laboured breathing, before letting her eyes roam over his body for visible injuries. Blood stained his jacket from wounds that had ceased bleeding hours ago. She stepped out on to the porch, scanning the immediate area for threat before stepping back over him, dragging him by the arm away from the door and slamming it shut. She pulled him in to the living room, grabbing a cushion from the sofa to place under his head. She left him lying there alone, retreating to the kitchen and searching for the potions he kept at hand for such a time like this. She filled a bowl with warm water, grabbed a towel, spare flannel and the first aid kit before making her way back to him.

She peeled away his clothes, careful not to aggravate any of his wounds. He didn’t stir. If she hadn’t of been able to hear his breathing she would have been worried, but this wasn’t her first rodeo; wasn’t the first time she’d had to take care of his unconscious form after a particularly brutal battle. Clothes gone, she took one of the potions, removing the lid and tipping the contents of the glass bottle down his throat, knowing it would work its way down, knowing he wasn’t at risk of choking. She dipped the flannel in to the bowl, wringing out the excess water and gently wiping it over his wounds. She repeated the process over and over again, the water quickly turning red. She clearer his wounds became, the harder she had to press to ensure they were clean. Sirius didn’t make a sound.

The moment she was satisfied there was not a single trace of dirt left on his body, she picked up another of the potion bottles, tipping single drops over the wounds. She watched closely as they hissed and bubbled, searing the wounds closed. She watched as the skin knitted itself back together, leaving only raw red lines that she knew would scar. She lightly traced the remnants of the largest wound, the one that trailed the base of his spine to his hip. It had been deep, deeper than the rest and the longest to heal. His breathing had evened out, no longer seeming as though he was struggling. She picked up the last potion bottle, knowing it was time for him to wake.

Gently, she tilted his head back, pulling his chin down to open his mouth enough to tip the entire murky green contents of the last potion down his throat. She knew she had less than five minutes from the last drop leaving the bottle to him waking. She covered him with the soft blanket she kept on the sofa and took the now cold bowl of bloody water, flannel and towel back to the kitchen, leaving the first aid kit in case it was still needed. She emptied the bowl and set it to soak in the sink and dumped the towel and flannel on the floor in front of the washing machine. She filled the kettle and flicked it on, grabbing two mugs and tea bags. She was filling the mugs with freshly boiled water when she heard a low moan.

She froze, listening as Sirius groaned and hissed as he shifted on the hard floor. She held her breath, waiting as she listened closely to any sounds he made. She heard him stand, bumping into the coffee table in the inevitable disoriented state she knew he’d be in… as he had been the last time she’d had to patch up his wounds on his unconscious body. She heard him curse and call her name, an involuntary shiver running down her spine. His voice was deep, rough and raspy – just the way she liked it; it made the heat rise to her cheeks. Her heart pounded against her chest as she heard him moving quickly towards the kitchen, his bare feet slapping hard against the floor with each harried step. She turned to greet him, just as he turned the corner into the kitchen. He froze mid-step, and they locked eyes with each other, both swallowing deeply. Seeing him standing there awake, alert and in all his glory relit the fire deep in her belly from earlier that morning, from where the mere memory of him made her tremble. Her name rolled of his tongue and she’d barely taken a step towards him before he came crashing into her.

The force of his body colliding with her forced her back against the counter. His lips latched onto her neck; with each kiss she knew he would leave a mark. His fingers dug harshly into her hips, clawing at her flesh, leaving crescent dents from his nails that almost broke the skin. She arched her back, stretching and tilting her head to the side to further expose the soft skin of her neck to him. She feel the bruises already forming from being pressed so hard into the counter-top, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was the man who was pressing her up against it.

She moaned and stretched her neck even further, gripping at his forearms. He growled loudly against her skin, reaching down with one hand for the hem or her top. He didn’t pull it up, instead he reached below it, feeling for her centre and pushing two fingers into without warning. She cried out, his mouth instantly covering hers to stop her making a sound. He pounded his fingers into her, teasing her clit with his thumb and spreading her legs with one of his own for more access. She could feel his rock-hard cock against her inner thigh, seeping against her. She groaned against his lips. It only made him trust his fingers harder.

She made to touch him, stroke him but he batted her hand away, twisting her arm behind her back and keeping it there. Her legs started to shake, the fire in the pit of her stomach building and she knew she wouldn’t last much longer. She could feel herself reaching her peak, her breath coming out in pants in effort to keep herself from going as long as possible. It was a game they liked to play. The first orgasm she had – she was to always ask permission for. Sometimes he allowed her to go relatively quickly, but sometimes he made her wait, made her _beg_. Today she knew was a day she would have to beg for release. Her legs continued to tremble with such force, the only thing keeping her upright was the pressure of his body against hers. She was close, so close, but with each plead that passed her lips, he just smirked and thrust his fingers harder, deeper inside her, the palm of his hand slapping against her, sending shockwaves through her. She had no idea how long he kept up this game, but her body was slick with sweat. He licked her neck, kissing her slowly before looking up and staring directly into her eyes.

“Go.”

She came with a cry. Her release came in waves of pleasure, his fingers coaxing her through her through it. With the force of her orgasm, her legs shook too much to hold her, but Sirius guided her down until they were both on their knees. She panted against him, her hips bucking involuntarily as he removed his fingers, teasing her clit once more as he drew away. He barely gave her a moment to rest, pushing her down so she was laid on her back. His movements were quick. In a matter of seconds, she was sprawled out on the kitchen floor with her top pushed up over her head, covering her eyes, blinding her with Sirius tugging on her nipples with his teeth. She whimpered as his teeth nipped a little too hard. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel his stiff, hard cock pressed against her inner thigh, his juices mixing with her own. She felt his hands behind her knees, spreading them apart. She could feel him hovering above her, feel his breath against her skin. He kissed her deeply, surprising her, slipping his tongue over hers. As quick as he’d come, he was gone. Her chest heaved in anticipation. She jumped ever so slightly when he lifted her legs again, encouraging her to wrap them around him. He gave a deep sigh as he leaned down and kissed her knee. She pictured his eyes closed, though knew there would be a deep look of wanting if open. She tensed when all went quiet, it wasn’t as though he had gone anywhere and left her unseeing on the floor – she had her legs wrapped round him after all – but she was a little unnerved (and slightly worried) about the sudden silence.

Until he rammed into her.

Once. Twice. Three times he pounded into her, each time she cried out. She hadn’t been expecting it, but it wasn’t all that shocking. Her slight discomfort from going so long without sex soon morphed into moans of pleasure as he forced his full length inside her by lifting her hips to match each stride. She used her hands to brace herself against the floor, to stop herself slipping against the tiles. She pulled the t-shirt from her head, wanting to look at him, watch him as he fucked her.

He growled when their eyes locked.

He bowed his head, breaking eye contact with her. He pace quickened, hands gripping painfully at her hips to keep himself grounded. She arched her back, bringing her hands up to kneed her tits, teasing her own nipples. He made a guttural sound of approval. Her breath hitched a she hit that sweet spot within her. She bit her lip as she panted, rolling her fingers and tugging on her nipples. She’d already come once, but she was more than ready to come again. She reached down between them, tracing her middle finger over her pulsing clit. She trapped her tongue between her teeth as she moved her finger faster, matching the movements to his ever-quickening thrusts. She knew he was getting close – he’d closed his eyes and thrown his head back, his breath deeper, harsher than before. She closed her own eyes, quickening her pace further, already feeling the familiar feeling of an orgasm burning. Her panting was increasing, calling out for a God that didn’t exist. Sirius moaned as his pacing became more erratic, more uneven until he was crying out _her_ name as he pounded into her. Him calling her name tipped her over the edge. She came with a cry of ecstasy.

His thrusting slowed as they both rode out their orgasms. Every couple of seconds she’d pulse around his cock still inside her, luring another moan out of him. He pulled out and collapsed on top of her.

They laid together on the kitchen floor, she with her fingers running gently through the hair of his head that was cushioned between her breasts. The only sounds was of their panting. They were in perfect rhythm of each other. She shivered in the cool morning air, even with being hot and sweaty from sex. Sirius turned his head to plant a kiss on her chest before heaving himself up, pulling her with him. He led her by the hand back into the living room and onto the sofa, the discarded blanket on the floor thrown over them the second they sat down. They sat in silence and though comfortable, she knew he was holding back… knew the events of the precious night were weighing heavily on him. She pulled her legs up, so they were curled underneath her. She turned her body to face his, placing a hand on his shoulder and resting her head against the back of the sofa. She let him know without words that she was there waiting to listen when he was ready to speak. He stayed silent his breathing quickening as his eyes slipped briefly closed.

It took a while, maybe a few minutes before his whole body stiffened and he spoke, his voice low.

“We lost…” he swallowed deeply, his eyes darkening as he thought back to the fight. “We lost heavily last night.

And he told her. He told her about the deaths of the two Weasley brothers and their father, about how the youngest boy died to protect the one he’d fallen in love with. About how the brother had become so distracted by his death that it caused his own. About how Arthur Weasley had sacrificed himself to successfully avenge his sons’ deaths. He spoke with sorrow about the boy who had just come of age and had joined them in his first fight only to lose out to a deadly curse five minutes in. Sirius’ eyes filled with tears as he listed off the names of each one of the perished, and who would be waiting at home for them never to return… they would be getting Lupin and Kingsley baring news of their deaths instead. She sat there, hand on his shoulder silently offering support as she listened to every word he spoke. It was the deadliest battle they’d been into date. His voice deepened dangerously as he spoke of Voldemort’s appearance in the fray, how he’d appeared out of nowhere, only to vanish once he knew Potter wasn’t there.

He hadn’t noticed how her body tensed at Voldemort’s name. he didn’t notice how her eyes had darkened much like his own, how her fingers had tightened on his shoulder just a fraction harder. He was too consumed with his own grief to notice how it was affecting her. As far as he was concerned, she only knew these people through his stories, through his tales of the Orders battles, the meetings, his memories. She had never met them; it was an understanding that she never would. Not a single one of them were aware of her, and that was the way they both knew it had to stay.

She let him talk, let him spill everything from the night before, everything that had happened since the day he’d last stepped out the front door. He had months-worth of things to tell her. He told her of the minor change in leadership within the Order. A few months back, Potter had announced that not only had he and the Weasley girl gotten married, but they were also expecting. The news hadn’t been received well, not at least in the height of war, but the Chosen One’s inner circle had agreed to step up to fill in when he wasn’t able to. He told her that since Moody’s death, things hadn’t been the same within the Order. Trust amongst them was scarce, and not one person aside from Potters select few knew everything that went on. They were receiving more and more people defecting from the dark side, all of whom had to go through rigorous interrogation, sometimes almost torturous. The most surprising being the Malfoy boy, who had changed his allegiance the night his mother had been killed before him by his own father. He had brought valuable information with him, though he was in no way trusted but many. He told her how it seemed only Granger that trusted the man… and that she was far too close to him from Sirius’ liking. She had smiled at that, knowing that just from Sirius’ stories, they two would be at each other’s throats yet be the strongest of partners.

He went on to tell her about the amount of young men and women, just barely of age, that were signing up to join them. He told her of how little time they had to train them, prepare them for battle. He told her how they tried not to send them out until they were ready if they could avoid it but sometimes it just came down to how they had available on the day. Their deaths hit everybody hard for they knew they had sent them out knowing they were in no way ready. Those who survived came back scarred… both mentally and physically.

He told her how he wasn’t sure how much more they all had left in them. He told her how Voldemort was showing up more and more. He was appearing here, there and everywhere, turning up at every corner… as though he was looking for someone other than Potter. She tensed again, hoping he was still too focused on his tale not to notice. It was all getting too much. She needed to distract him, stop him talking. She trailed her hand from his shoulder down to his chest, moving further and further down until she could feel his pubic hair. His breath hitched as he stopped talking, shifting his body so his was leaning a little more stretched out on the sofa. She traced his cock lightly before wrapping her palm around him, slowly moving her hand up and down. It didn’t take long for him to become hard again.

In one swift motion she had the blanket off the both of them and her leg thrown over his. She kept pumping her hand, keeping a steady pace as she straddled him, earning moans of pleasure from the man beneath her. She leant up to kiss him deeply, batting his hands away when he tried to touch her. It was her time to take charge – this round would be all about him and him alone. She kissed his chin, his neck; trailing down his sternum – her soft lips leaving goosebumps against his skin. He sucked in a sharp breath and, if it was even possible, became harder in her hand.

She moved her whole body, climbing off him painstaking slowly, still kissing her way down. She knew he longed to touch her, to tangle his fingers in her hair but she wouldn’t let him. She felt her knees hit the floor and with a light tap to the inside of his thigh with her free hand, he spread his legs wide. Leaning forward and stilling pumping him, she licked his balls. Sirius moaned and jerked slightly. She sucked his balls lightly before trailing her tongue up the entire length of his shaft. She looked quickly to the side, seeing his fist clenching the fabric on the sofa. She smirked to herself as she trailed his shaft once more before taking him completely in her mouth without warning. He jerked sharply, thrusting and hitting the back of her throat. She held back the gag and started moving.

Using her hand as a guide, she bopped her head, sucking him and trailing her tongue along his shaft as she went. She tightened her hand slightly at his base, using her other hand to tease his balls. She quickened her pace, the moans escaping Sirius’ mouth spurring her on. Every so often he’d thrust into her, like he couldn’t stop himself from moving. Whenever he did, she sucked a little harder. She trailed her tongue up, swirling it round his head before clamping her lips round his once more. She knew he was getting close… he was becoming more vocal. She moved faster, moving until she felt him stiffen beneath her and warm liquid hit the back of her throat. She still sucked him, guiding him through his orgasm.

She cleaned him with her tongue, licking up every drop and sucking down his juices like her life depended on it. His breathing was harsh, laboured, his chest rising heavily and his dick twitching involuntarily. She leant back; eyes locked on his. He watched every move she made, his eyes darkening dangerously as she wiped the corner of her mouth and sucked the residue off her thumb.

She knew neither of them were in no way done for the night, but she did think he would want a few minutes to himself to catch his breath. She was wrong. As she stood and stretched, she felt his eyes on her. She turned away from him and bent to pick up the fallen blanket. As she went to straighten up, she felt herself being pushed back down to her knees.

He had her bent over the coffee table, legs spread wide. Her arms were stretched ahead of her, hands gripping the edge of the table while her cheek was pushed into the splintered wood. His hand placed on her back, right between her shoulder blades kept her in place, not that she had the intention to move. With his free hand, he teased her clit, getting her ready for him. He pushed one finger, then two inside her, pumping until she was wet and more than wanting. He slipped his fingers out and kissed the small of her back before he lined himself up and pushed into her. He didn’t pounded into her like he had done earlier. He was slow. He took his time sliding himself back and forth, removing his dick the whole way out and guiding it back in. She loved every second of it. Slow and steady he fucked her, holding on to her hips. The need was rising in her once more, and she started to lean back and meet each thrust. A guttural sound came from his throat and his pace quickened. Her knuckles turned white with the pressure of gripping the table and the moment he reached down and rubbed her clit with his finger she cried out. She lifted her head and threw it back, panting. She matched him thrust for thrust, using her grip on the table to keep her steady, to get her body to move.

She came without warning. A combination of her nipples rubbing against the table, a thrust just deep enough and the pressure of his fingers had her crying out, crying his name. Gone was the slow and steady nature, Sirius seemed to no longer be in control of himself. He pounded in to her now, working her through her orgasm and not letting up. His speed increased to the point it was almost too painful for her to endure. Both hands dug into her hips as he used them to grind her to him. She cried his name, pushing him over the edge. He came with a growl, slamming into her until he finally started to slow.

He placed his forearms on the table either side of her, keeping himself from collapsing on her completely. He rested his forehead on her back, and she could feel the beads of sweat against her skin. He pulled out of her and moved away, slipping his arm around her waist and pulling her with him. They laid together on the floor, her almost on top of him with his arms wrapped round her. With a wave of his hand and no words spoken, the forgotten blanket was suddenly over them, shielding them from the morning air. Light streamed through the barely open curtains and the silence of the house seemed to lull him to asleep. She closed her eyes and took a breath, waiting.

* * *

She lay awake next to him in post-coital bliss. The thin blanket from the sofa barely covered the both of them, the chill from the morning air leaving her marked skin tingling. Sirius was turned on his front, an arm thrown over her, his breath tickling her bare shoulder as he slept. As quietly and carefully as she could, she slipped away from him, heading for the bathroom. She left the door open, seeing no point in closing it, and run the shower, leaving it for a minute to heat up. Once under the spray she allowed herself to think, to mull over everything Sirius had told her about the latest battle. Under the hot spray she bowed her head in respect for those who had fought and lost their lives. Her heart pounded as every name of the perished crossed her mind. She turned the temperature of the water up, letting it scald her skin as she fought with her conscious over what she could do. Death was happening more and more, becoming an unavoidable part of everyday life for the Order and she was scared. _Sirius was scared_, and him being scared terrified her further.

They weren’t in love, at least she didn’t think they were – they had never put a label on it. In the two years they had known each other she had come to care for him deeply. Whatever it was between them, she couldn’t stand back and let him lose anyone else. She couldn’t stand back and lose him herself.

There was a way… a way she could make it stop. She held the key to Voldemort’s downfall.

Only she knew. It was a secret she vowed to take to the grave. She wouldn’t tell a single soul of her true parentage, instead determined for them to believe she was but a mere muggle. She’d excelled in her studies, starting at Hogwarts fifteen years after Sirius had left. She had sensed the impending war, dreamed of it. It had both terrified and enthralled her. It had been the Divination teacher that had made the connection in her fifth year – _that had made the prophecy. _

She had been enchanted, listening to the woman’s voice deepen and the almost choking nature in which she spoke. She had spoken about one more powerful than the Dark Lord himself, one which the Dark Lord would seek out to join his cause. This person – this woman – would possess the power to destroy muggle and wizard-kind alike. The Professor had seized speaking then, leaving her wanting _more_.

Twice more during her fifth year this happened, each time giving her a little more. In the end she had connected each prophecy together. _She_ was the one more powerful than the Dark Lord. _She_ was the one he would seek out in years to come. _She_ was the daughter of Lord Voldemort. Born to a half-breed mother imprisoned as a slave to be used at the Dark Lords will, she was cast aside soon after birth. Voldemort was never told of the child, having demanded her mother be disposed of once he’d finished with her. Pity had been taken upon the woman and she’d been kept alive long enough to bare her child before succumbing to the injuries bestowed upon her. The child had been first cared for by a follower of the Dark Lord, desperate for a child of her own before it became clear Voldemort would not allow and infant amongst his ranks. The Death Eater, distraught at having to give up the child, placed her in a muggle orphanage to spite the Dark Lord. How he would hate to know his child would be cared for by muggles.

She had been brought up by perfectly loving muggle parents, a couple too old to have their own but wanting to raise an infant. She wanted for very little in childhood, and even less once she started at Hogwarts. Her parents were supportive of her education until they both passed away in her sixth year. She had never told them of the things she had uncovered, not wanting to scare them with the information that she was the daughter of the very man that despised who they were.

The Dark Lord was building his ranks once more, Harry Potter having thwarted every attempt at killing him. She made a decision at the start of her seventh year. She would not allow the prophecy to ring true. She would make it impossible. If the timeline given to her by her Professor was true, she had maybe a year before Voldemort discovered her, but she was adamant that would not happen. She had built up an impressive skillset in her time at Hogwarts, something that was praised by both her professors and her peers. She had an entire arsenal of spells and potions she had invented and perfected herself… including ones that would supress her magic. She knew it was risky, but it was necessary to keep herself hidden. She’d left Hogwarts telling everyone she would be travelling, before sending word a few weeks later that she had died in a tragic accident. In truth she had hidden herself away in London, setting her affairs in order. She transfigured herself into a tall blonde, with hair waving down past her shoulders. She would be unrecognisable to everyone.

Anyone who had cared about her believe her dead – just as she had planned. It was for the greater good, but the thought no longer saddened her. Potions taken and spells cast… she was nothing more than a muggle. The war had increased in intensity over the years, with wizards and witches hiding amongst the muggles, saving them from the Death Eaters wherever and whenever they could. She needed an in, a way to keep up with the war, almost from the inside. She’d put herself in the mix. Figured out the pattern of attack and put herself directly in the middle, hoping beyond hope that she would be successful. She was. A group of Order members had shown up before any real damage had been done… though she made it look as though she had been far more injured than she had. She had banked on someone taking pity on her, taking her in and patching her up. She had banked on being able to get the information she needed… she just hadn’t banked on _him._ Sirius Black had taken her in, healed her wounds but had not sent her away.

He had stared at her, eyes flicking from hers to her lips. She had blinked slowly at him, catching her lip between her teeth. She had felt… _something_… the first time they had locked eyes. Something pulled at her very core, caused her skin to prickle in a way it never had before and heat to rise to her cheeks. His eyes had flicked once more to her lips, the smallest hint of a smile on his face. The moment she’d given him the slightest tilt of her head he had pounced.

He had not been gentle. He pressed her against the sofa, attacking her neck with rough kisses, arms held tight above her head. She hadn’t been able to move… but she had _liked_ it. He’d kept a firm hold of her hands with one of his own (not that she was fighting him for release), using the other to lift the thin material of her top. His eyes had widened upon finding her braless underneath. A deep look of wanting had crossed over his face and his eyes had darkened. They locked eyes briefly once more before he ducked down and sucked hard on her nipple, nipping her with his teeth. She had groaned loudly, bucking her hips against him as he gave a throaty laugh that had quickly turned to a sharp intake of breath. He released her hands and tugged her top up and over her head. She’d given an involuntary shiver as the cool air of the flat he’d brought her to touched her skin, though it was also in part to the way he made her feel. He’d gone back to sucking on her nipple an she’d threaded her fingers through his hair and tugged none too gently.

To this day she still wasn’t sure at what point they’d moved from the threadbare cushions of the sofa to the cracked hardwood of the coffee table in the middle of the room, nor could she pinpoint the exact moment he’d stripped her bottom half of clothing. She remembered the feeling of being stretched like she hadn’t before, of spreading her legs further apart to allow him to thrust deeper and deeper until he hit her very core. She’d braced herself with one hand, teasing her own clit with the other as he pounded frantically into her, his movements becoming erratic. She had arched her back when she had felt herself reaching her peak, and she had rode out her orgasm with him still pounding into her, though he had stilled soon after. He had collapsed on top of her, the both of them sweaty and sticky.

He hadn’t invited her to stay the night, but he hadn’t asked her to leave either. He had left her laid out on the table, naked and panting and gone for a shower. She stayed there, unmoving and listened to the running water. She had contemplated moving, but she had known that leaving then would have meant losing any prospect of getting the information she needed. So she had stayed. She had stayed and waited for Sirius to come back out. She dressed back in her top and knickers but left the rest of her bare.

He’d returned soon after, towel wrapped round his waist and hair dripping all over the place. He paid her no mind as he stalked into the kitchen, muttering under his breath. She had watched him closely; stiff movements and the muscles in his back tense as if he felt her staring at him. She had left it a few minutes before she moved from the sofa to stand behind him. She had glided her fingers across his back, traced the outlines of his muscles, worked out the tension by applying pressure. He’d painstakingly slowly started to relax, though she had kept going, knowing that she’d need to get him to open up to her, needed to get him to tell her everything.

It had taken time.

Stolen moments between the two of them whenever he wasn’t out fighting with the Order. He would come to her, in the dead of night, appearing from the shadows. He would fuck her until she was red raw but living in ecstasy. He would lay next to her, the both of them sweaty and sticky and panting, and reveal little bits about the fight. He would tell her a little more each time, though not enough for her to piece everything together.

That all changed the night they had lost Mad-Eye Moody.

He’d come to her, a bloodied mess, in shock and shaking. It had taken hours of her sitting under the shower with him for her to get the full story. There had been a raid on a known Death Eater camp, a raid that had been planned right down to the footsteps each would take. A straight-forward raid that not one of them could see going wrong. Only… it _had_. That was one thing Sirius would not tell her. He would not tell her the mole within the Order, just that there had been one. This person had been high in the Order inner circle, right up there in the planning and they had given the plan of attack to the Death Eaters. Many lives had been lost that night but the one that had hit Sirius the hardest had been Moody’s. She had pieced together later that the two hadn’t been the best of friends and had not particularly liked one another but they had been comrades, brothers in arms… and Sirius had been standing right next to him with the curse took off his head. That was the night he had told her _everything_.

From the Golden Trio to the Chosen One to every member of the Order and every single person who had defected from the dark side. He had told her _everything_. He had also moved her from her home that night. She had let him take her to the cottage in the middle of nowhere. She had let him essentially keep her prisoner within his wards. She had wanted her nothing, he kept her stocked of everything she would ever need… and it had continued that way for the next couple of years… until tonight.

The memories of her past, _their _past washed over her as she felt him climb into the shower behind her. He kissed her neck slowly, teasingly, lips barely touching. She twisted round, kissing him fiercely under the cascading water. She had the means should she ever decide to use her magic again, but the time had not yet come… not until _today_. She had to protect Sirius. She wouldn’t let that flat-nosed fucker hurt anyone anymore. She would restore her magic and join the fight.

Because she wasn’t about to lose the best fuck she’d ever had.


End file.
